


with the sun at my back

by Suicix



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe, Battle Couple, Established Relationship, Friendship/Love, Introspection, M/M, Supernatural Elements, Superpowers, Vigilantism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 10:44:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12297570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suicix/pseuds/Suicix
Summary: Really, it was inevitable. They both know it. You don’t share your brainwaves with someone like this and not have them become the most important person in your life. You don’t hold someone in your arms after you both nearly died without wanting to stay like that – so relieved, so warm because of the arms squeezing you back – forever.





	with the sun at my back

**Author's Note:**

> i can't believe this au exists because of the combination of their hair colours for 7for7 and their hair colours in the never ever mv. i can't believe hair has done this.

Today’s the kind of day that’s going to turn into one of _those_ nights, Bambam can feel it. There’s an edge of danger in the air as he points his camera up at the sky and the buildings that surround him, and he knows it won’t be noticeable in the footage he’s shooting, but it’s _there,_ sending shivers up his spine.

He wonders if Yugyeom can sense it on the other side of town, if things have started to feel slightly offbeat in the dance studio because of it. If this unease has spread over there, he most probably can: it isn’t like Yugyeom to miss a single step.

When Bambam puts his camera down, he sends a text: a simple, innocuous question mark. Usually, he’s all emojis and exclamation points, but this is something they have to be subtle about, something no-one can catch on to. Yugyeom will understand what it means. He always does.

The reply comes half an hour or so later, and what Yugyeom’s saying is just as clear – he can feel it too. Bambam pockets his phone and looks up at the city, the sky. This evening, that’s where they’ll be.

 

 

Really, it was inevitable. They both know it. You don’t share your brainwaves with someone like this and not have them become the most important person in your life. You don’t hold someone in your arms after you both nearly died without wanting to stay like that – so relieved, so warm because of the arms squeezing you back – forever.

That night (that morning, really, because the sky was starting to change colour, gradually turning from jet black to hazy blue), the two of them stood on a rooftop, still sore from the fight, breathing each other in in the aftermath of what felt like it could have been their last battle.

Bambam clutched at Yugyeom like he couldn’t believe they were still standing, _because_ he couldn’t believe they were still standing. It had been tough, maybe the most dangerous yet, and it felt like a miracle to be there, standing on that roof, the slightest of breezes blowing through their hair. Yugyeom was holding Bambam just as tightly, every one of his shaky breaths audible to Bambam even as the city started to wake up around them, and that? That was when Bambam knew.

He tilted his head and pressed his mouth to Yugyeom’s, no regrets, just like when they stand side by side in battle. Just like every moment that’s gone by since the very first time they met.

 

 

It goes without saying that Yugyeom kissed back, that time on the roof. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be the same now. He’s already home when Bambam gets back to their apartment, his body stretched across the length of the couch and his phone in his hands. He gives a lazy wave as Bambam enters the lounge, and then yelps when Bambam takes a seat on the couch, practically on top of him. Neither of them mention what’s going to happen later, not yet. It goes unspoken as they eat dinner in the kitchen, their legs brushing underneath the table. It remains unspoken as they move back to the couch, taking up far less space than what two people need because they’re sitting so close together.

On any other evening, they’d carry on just like this, teasing and talking until they’re too tired to do much else other than share a shower and go to bed. Maybe Bambam would have editing to finish for the next day, and he’d sit on the couch tapping away at his laptop until it was done and he was sick of the same few minutes of footage, and then he’d pull up whichever drama or anime they’d been binging the weekend before instead. Maybe Yugyeom would be tired from dance, and he’d whine about it until Bambam finally offered to give him a massage, his body gradually loosening up under Bambam’s touch.

Tonight’s different, though. Tonight, Bambam’s even more grateful than usual that he doesn’t have any pressing deadlines to deal with, even more grateful than usual that Yugyeom isn’t too burned out from dancing. After all, they’ve got a city to re-stabilise.

 

 

Before they head out, though, they have to make the necessary changes. To power up, as cliché as it probably sounds.

For Bambam, changing the colour of his hair has always made him feel more confident – more _powerful_ – but he never thought that would ever be quite as literal as it is now that there’s this in his life. Now that he and Yugyeom have this between them. Now that they’re more than simply best friends who share an apartment – now that they’re that on so many different new levels – all because Bambam found a not-quite-pair of what he thought were just gloves on the way back from an otherwise pretty uneventful shoot.

The gloves are long and black and made of… Bambam doesn’t know. Some strange material that he’d never seen before finding them, never felt before. At a second glance, they’re more like – more like some kind of armour than gloves, really. More like gauntlets. He attempted to try them on, only to realise that he couldn’t because they were made to fit the same hand, made to be worn by different people. They lived in a drawer until Yugyeom discovered them and asked about them, and then they found out – well.

The only way to describe what the gloves can do, really, is magic – to say that they give the wearers temporary superpowers.

 

 

“Do you think we should…” Yugyeom pauses, looking down at the gloves and then back up at Bambam. “… maybe switch it around this time?”

The two gauntlets are near identical in appearance, but the second time they ever used them, they realised that they aren’t quite as similar as they seem. They’re opposites. Light and dark. Different kinds of magic.

“We could,” says Bambam. “Give it here.” He holds out a hand for one of the gloves, and slips it on when Yugyeom hands it over, watching in the mirror as his hair changes colour – as Yugyeom’s changes too when he puts on the other one.

At the beginning of the year, this had been reversed. Bambam had been the light and Yugyeom had been the dark: Bambam’s hair had turned pale and silvery, and Yugyeom’s was pitch black, somehow even darker than it is naturally.

Now, though, Yugyeom’s hair isn’t the platinum colour that Bambam’s was when they last had to do this, but bright, obvious yellow. Like the sun should be, like something burning up. Like neon, like acid, the kind of colour you swear you can taste.

When Bambam looks in the mirror, his own hair is grey-blue-silver-purple, sleek and untouchable. Something about it makes him think _speed,_ somehow: like he’ll suddenly be able to move through the night even more quickly than ever without even trying. (Even if he can’t, though, he still looks good. That isn’t the point, but it’s a confidence boost. Like a new hair colour always was before.)

 

 

It’s getting dark outside now, and the air feels – heavy, like there’s some sort of imbalance in the atmosphere. Even more so than before. Bambam and Yugyeom are as inconspicuous as two people with silver and yellow hair respectively can be as they head out into the night. (Bambam’s reluctant to pull his hood over his head – he likes his hair like this, OK? – but he does so all the same. They can’t be seen.)

“Up there.” Yugyeom points towards somewhere in the near distance, somewhere up above them. Another rooftop, it looks like. Somehow, that’s always where they end up. “I can feel it.”

Bambam can feel it, too. It’s even more present as they get closer, as they actually start making their way up rather than just through the streets. By the time they get their first real look at the enemy, it’s so intense: prickling at Bambam’s skin, buzzing away in his head. He swears he can almost hear it. Something like static, with the occasional screech breaking through it. It’s unsettling – is always unsettling – but they press on. Always press on.

There’s no way to be sure what exactly the figures on the roof are, no way to know why they’re here or what they might want. Bambam just knows that they need to be gone, knows that whenever things start to feel out of the ordinary, these beings turn up. Strange, almost humanoid creatures that appear in small groups from who even knows where. He’s never seen anything like them before – never felt the tension they seem to bring with them until he and Yugyeom started doing this.

This was probably someone else’s responsibility before they lost the gauntlets, before they lost the ability to detect and seek out the danger. Bambam wonders if those people, whoever they are, are still out there – if they’re trying to find the source of their powers or if they’ve given up altogether (if they’re _gone_ altogether) – but he thinks he and Yugyeom doing a pretty decent job, now that they’ve got the hang of things. As much as it’s possible to get the hang of things when you have no idea what you’re really doing, anyway. The previous owners of the gloves could have been born for this, could be from another world entirely – aliens, even. If this exists, then who even _knows_ what’s out there?

What matters right now, though, is that they still haven’t been seen by the creatures a rooftop away. That they’re at an advantage. Bambam clenches one hand in a tight fist. He nods across at Yugyeom, ready to pounce, and Yugyeom nods back, confident, trusting.

They’ve learned how to fight. Maybe more importantly than that, they’ve learned how to win, too.

 

 

Light shoots out from Yugyeom’s hands like ribbons moving to an invisible rhythm inside his own head, dancing along however he wills them to. Bambam can’t hear it himself, but he understands – is the only one who understands. He watches as the light moves through the air, so smooth, gliding just as easily as Yugyeom’s body does during a freestyle dance. It’s like the magic’s an extension of him, the same way he makes the music feel like an extension of his body when he dances. It works with him, _for_ him.

And Bambam can make the powers the gauntlets give them work for him, too. He understands light and colour, dark and shadow. More than anything, he understands how to take a good shot – and not only with a camera, not only the kind that’ll be caught on video. Now that they’ve been doing this for a while, he knows how to do it with magic, too, so that’s exactly what he does. He extends an arm, casting the figures into total darkness so they can be blinded by light when Yugyeom strikes them with it, when he takes them by surprise.

That’s how this works, after all: the two of them working together, combining what they’ve been given to get results. That’s how they’ve always done things – it’s how they do the most mundane of things, so it’s how they do this, too. There for each other whether they’re silver and gold or the sun and the moon, day and night or light and dark.

_No matter what,_ Bambam thinks as the creatures are scattered backwards, giving him another in, and when he looks at Yugyeom – looks at the magic at Yugyeom’s fingertips and the matching strands of yellow peeking out from under his hood – he knows they’re thinking the same thing without needing to ask.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading, everyone - you can always find me on tumblr @ vibetechs, and as of recently on twitter @gotsevenses !!


End file.
